That evening Spyro collapsed just outside his cell. He raised a forepaw toward the “safety” of the doorway, groaning weakly.
“Stupid lizard,” the slave driver grumbled as he put his foot against Spyro’s side and pushed the dragon into the cell, slamming the door.
Spyro weakly curled up in a ball, everything hurt. His paws bled, and his throat was parched. It was becoming almost impossible to reach the trough now.
“This is it,” Spyro said weakly. “I’m not gonna last another day.”
Then there was a loud sound outside the cell, a horn of some kind bellowed throughout the Quarry. Spyro turned his head to the door and couldn’t believe his eyes, somebody was fighting the Hyenas. Not just anybody, it was Hunter, the Cheetah was fighting off about a dozen hyenas, using his bow as a club and it looked like he was winning.
Spyro leaped up, he didn’t care about the pain or how weak he was, he was just so glad to see Hunter. He reared up and slammed against the bars gripping them with his forepaws, and shoved his muzzle through. “Hunter!” he yelled, pushing his parched throat to the breaking point.
“Spyro!” Hunter yelled while he continued to beat off the Hyenas, “Hang in there buddy, I’m gonna get you out!”
The commotion was starting to catch the attention of the other slaves, who were beginning to cheer Hunter on with renewed hope.
Suddenly there was a loud crack as a club hit the side of Hunter’s face causing him to stumble. Next a Hyena tackled him, bringing him down. Almost immediately the cheering died down, everything seemed to freeze for Spyro in that moment
“No…” Spyro whispered as he watched Hunter go down. Soon the Hyenas were on top of the cheetah, punching and kicking him, burying him under a pile of fur. Spyro let go of the bars and slid down, turning his head. He closed his eyes and pressed his paws to the side of his head, trying to block his ear holes, but it didn’t work. He could still hear every soft impact against Hunter’s body. The tears flowed stronger than ever, just meters away his friend was being beaten to death and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
After what seemed like an eternity, the sound stopped. Spyro raised his head and slowly turned back toward the cell door, afraid of what he might see. He opened his eyes just in time to see Hunter being dragged away, he wasn’t moving. The overseer had Hunter’s bow in his hands, examining it for a second before snapping it in two with his powerful arms, tossing the broken pieces into a nearby bonfire.
Spyro would have wailed if he had the energy for it, but all he could do was lay down and sob, crying himself to sleep.
---
The next day Spyro awoke in a stupor, walking out of the cell in a stiff fashion. The pain didn’t register, nor the guard yelling at him or the crack of the whip at his heels. None of it mattered, his best friend was dead. He didn’t even care that this was probably his last day alive, he had nothing left to live for.
Then as he approached the cart, saw something out of the corner of his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, a flash of yellow-spotted fur.
He blinked and turned his head, it was Hunter swinging a pickaxe, he was bruised, bloody, but alive.
Spyro could only stare at the Cheetah, as if Hunter would disappear if Spyro closed his eyes for even a second. Is this real? Am I already dying? he thought. He slowed his pace, unsure as to what he was seeing. He shook his head to try to get the phantom to disappear, but Hunter remained.
Suddenly he felt a shove against his flank. “Move lizard!” the guard bellowed, nearly knocking him over. He resumed his pace but looked back, Hunter was still there, still swinging the axe, still alive.
This is real, he’s not dead, he’s really here. His mind was buzzing with the revelation.
The usual backbreaking labor of the day was softened by the sight of Hunter. While the cart was being loaded, Spyro would just stare at him. Hunter had cuts all over his chest, his eye was swollen and his tail hung limp behind him. While it was heartwrenching to see his friend now part of the same machine that was breaking him, the Cheetah’s very presence gave him something to live for.
Every time Spyro descended the Quarry the only thing on his mind was Hunter, the anticipation of seeing him kept the dragon’s spirits up even when they were apart.
As evening arrived and Spyro was unhitched from the cart, he watched Hunter still swinging the axe as he was led back to his cell. The cheetah was exhausted but still alive, the work day would be over soon and he would get rest.
As Spyro collapsed in his cell, it had been a long hard day, but Hunter's presence had made it worth living through. But now he was alone again, he slowly turned around, pointing himself toward the barred door, looking out into the quarry.
Hunter was nowhere in sight.
Spyro closed his eyes, trying not to think about what could be happening to his friend in the dark. He broke in here, what if the guards aren’t done beating on him? The thought consumed Spyro’s mind.
Suddenly the door opened and a tall furry figure was shoved inside. Hunter stood before Spyro, an exhausted look in his eyes. “Sorry buddy,” the Cheetah said, panting heavily, “I failed you.”
Spyro summoned every last bit of strength he had left and got to his paws, he ran to Hunter, rearing up and wrapping his forelegs around his friend’s waist sobbing.
The impact of the small dragon against his body caused Hunter to groan, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he placed a hand on Spyro’s head between his horns and knelt down, hugging Spyro back.
Rubbing Spyro’s back, Hunter could feel every cut on the young dragon’s body. It had been one thing to watch Spyro being whipped and beaten all day but to actually touch the wounds…soon the Cheetah was crying along with Spyro. “I’m so sorry,” he said through sobs, “I should have been here sooner, I should have gotten you out.”
The two held each other for a long time, almost afraid to let go. Finally they released each other, Hunter sitting down against the cell wall. Spyro lay down next to him, keeping a forepaw on Hunter’s knee as if to serve as a constant reminder that Hunter was really there.
“How’d you find me?” Spyro asked, looking up at Hunter. “I didn’t think anyone was coming.”
“I tracked you from where you were captured, everyone else assumed you’d gone off to the Forgotten Realms or something,” Hunter said. “That didn’t seem right though, I knew you wouldn’t miss a chance to see me and Elora.”
“I’m so sorry I dragged you into this Hunter,” Spyro said sadly. “I should have been stronger, I shouldn’t have let them take me.
Hunter put his hand on Spyro’s shoulder. “Spyro,” he said with conviction, “You’re the strongest person I know, If you couldn’t handle them, I doubt anyone could’ve. So don’t beat yourself up because a bunch of filthy mutts couldn’t fight fair.”
For a brief moment, Hunter saw that spark in Spyro’s eyes that had been missing, the young dragon who could take on anything.
“Yeah.” Spyro said quietly, trying to keep a lighthearted tone, “they really fought dirty.”
Hunter looked down at the collar around Spyro’s neck, which glowed a faint green. “Is that how they got you?” he asked.
“Uh huh, it knocks my flame out,”he said, with disgust, “can’t even get a spark off now.”
“Does it hurt? Hunter asked.
“No…” Spyro said, “There's just a coldness in my chest where it’s supposed to be warm.” He was clearly upset about it and Hunter decided not to press further.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get us out of here, just you wait.” Hunter said, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”
Spyro watched as Hunter drifted off to sleep, he laid his head down on his paws, ready to do the same. He doesn’t understand, Spyro thought. This place, it breaks you.
